


Less Traveled By

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Prayer, made up dwarf culture, off screen character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:44:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For fifty years Kili believed his brother was dead. Now he stands ready to reunite with him, but he cannot be prepared for all that will follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Traveled By

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by a hobbit kink prompt (which I have lost and am now looking for the link, will post as soon as I find it) 
> 
> and Bettiebloodshed, long may she reign.

_Traditionally there are twenty-seven prayers in Khuzdal that can be said over a newborn. Only one is given per child and there is no set time or place for it. Whoever is first moved in the presence of the infant will recite the prayer that Mahal puts to their lips. Every child knows the words spoken over their small head. It is an intrinsic part of every dwarf’s identity._

_Twenty-seven possible prayers._

_And yet, the same one was chosen and spoken to the last two heirs of Durin. The eldest took the prayer from his mother, the younger from his older brother._

_Twenty-seven possible prayers._

_And they were given **Veenu Icanna** , here translated by the grace of an unknown historian: _

_When the world burns and all seems lost, you will stand at crossroad. I pray that Mahal guides you to the right path and gives you the strength to walk it. Remember that you were born from love and all that would turn you from that mean harm. Mahal bless this child and help them to hold back the darkness._

**2990, The Third Age**

It was greener than Kili remembered. The gently rolling hills riddled with rounded doors and meandering fences all impossibly lovely and bucolic. Fifty years since he had first walked this path, a boy with a bow and arrow and as much sense as a gopher. How eager he had been then. 

He had left behind the rest of his party in Bree, along with his mount and most of his supplies. Gimli and Dain had been glad of a few night’s rest in an inn on their Prince’s coin, vowing to him that they would stay sober enough to keep track of their kits and ponies. It had been good to be alone for once, walking through the woods with no voices nattering behind him or a thousand questions to be answered. 

Now that he was here though, Kili wondered if he had made the right choice. It would have been better perhaps to arrive in a more ceremonious fashion. As it was, it was difficult to anyone to pay him much mind at all. His memory was good, but not sharp enough to lead him back to Bag End after all these years. 

“Excuse me.” He tried again with a sleepy looking hobbit propped against a barrel. “I’m looking for Bilbo Baggins.” 

“Aye?” The hobbit yawned. “Oh. Well Sherry Wiggins lives up that way.” 

“No, no, sir. Bilbo Baggins.” Kili repeated. 

“Sherry Wiggins, yes. That way.” The hobbit yawned again. 

A youngster, barely up to Kili’s knee ran out onto the road, eyes wide and a little red with tears. He crashed into the old hobbit, tugging at his trousers. 

“Gaffer.” The boy whimpered. 

“Oi, Samwise.” The hobbit bent and scooped the boy up. “What’re you doing home already?” 

“Got lost.” Samwise sniffed. “The others told me we were playin’ hide and seek, but they never found me.” 

“Well how could they find you if you were running off then?” Gaffer bobbled the boy a little, rubbing at his back. “Silly boy. Won’t they be missing you?” 

“Don’t want to go back alone.” 

“Well you know I can’t be taking you. Not with my leg the way it is and old Lobelia wanting me to plant her bulbs tomorrow.” Gaffer looked over the boy’s head, narrowing his eyes at Kili who had watched this domestic drama unfold with mild curiosity. “You’ll be heading up that way if you’re to see Sheila. Would you mind walking my boy there?” 

“Really, I’m not after Shelia. I’m looking for Bilbo Baggins.” 

“Why didn’t you say so?” The hobbit grinned. “That’s exactly where the boy needs to be getting back to. Isn’t that right?” 

“I can show you.” Samwise scrambled back down, still a little teary, but suddenly important with his mission. “Maybe everyone is done hiding now and we can have tea.” 

“Nothing like a tea and a biscuit to make someone welcome. And Samwise, tell Mister Baggins that I’ll be along at the end of the week to trim back his ivy.” 

“Yes, Gaffer.” Samwise looked warily at Kili, then broke into a run. “This way!” 

Following his only lead, Kili took off in pursuit. The child was surprisingly swift, wending his way through the dozing countryside. At last they came around the bend and Kili recognized the green door and curving path. The boy didn’t go inside though, but around the back onto a rise overlooking a wide open field. A gaggle of children were running about in the spring sunshine, orbiting loosely around an adult sitting cross legged in the tall grass. 

“Sir.” The boy came to a stop, looking up at Kili. “Are you a dwarf?” 

“Yes, little one, I am.” Kili suppressed a smile. “Was it my braids that gave it away or my height?” 

“Both, sir.” Samwise frowned. “Do you know our teacher? Only he’s a dwarf and no one else around here is. And you said you were looking for Mr. Baggins and he and our teacher are good friends.” 

“Oh.” Kili’s stomach clenched and a feverish rush of blood pounded through him. “Is that your teacher there?” 

“Yes, sir.” The boy shifted uneasily. “Do you know him?” 

Kili squinted across the distance, his eyesight not what it once was though he would never admit it. 

“Perhaps I do. Would you bring him a message for me?” 

“A message? He’s only over there.” Samwise frowned. “Can’t you tell him?” 

“He looks a little busy.” Kili squatted down to look Samwise in the eye. The boy already had the soft comfortable look of a hobbit, down to his broad hairy feet and wee waistcoat. “Can you tell him that Kili is here to see him and that I shall wait in the house until he has a free moment?” 

Samwise’s eyes widened, “You’re Kili?” 

“Aye.” Kili said in surprise. “You know my name?” 

“Teacher tells us stories about you. But you’re not all grown up in them. He says you were a wild one like Merry and that you had a lot of adventures.” Samwise looked him over again. “I’d like to have adventures.” 

“Maybe one day you will.” Kili kept on a crooked smile as everything within him twisted. 

“Samwise!” A deep voice called out, a small chorus echoed him. “Who have you roped into taking you home now?” 

“Sammy is in trouble!” One of the girls hooted. 

“That’s unkind, Iris.” The teacher stood up, striding purposely up the hill to Samwise. 

Closer now, it was unmistakably Fili. His hair had been tamed back into a single long braid and his beard was close shaven without a hint of decoration. The sun had tanned his skin and the first wrinkles had begun to crack around his eyes and mouth. He was dressed in a nearly hobbit manner with loose brown pants tucked into worn boots and a white linen shirt hanging loose. His only nod to his true heritage was a brown leather jerkin in place of a waistcoat. Children ran between his legs as he walked, one jumping up onto his back. 

Kili had once clung just like that to his brother’s shoulders. He had taken Fili for granted back then, his faithful, abiding brother, who would carry him whenever he grew tired of walking. The rush of confusion and longing mingled with the last dregs of sorrow and anger. Kili wanted nothing more than to stand in the shadows, watching for a time and getting his bearings.

Instead, reluctantly, he stood. Kili turned to face his brother for the first time in fifty years, chin up, shoulders straight and every inch the Crown Prince of Erebor. 

“I’m sorry.” Samwise’s lower lip began to tremble as Fili came closer. “Only we were playing hide and seek and the others didn’t seek me and I got turned around when I came out and....” 

“Don’t cry.” Fili put out a hand out and Samwise jogged forward to take it. Fili lifted him easily, cradling the boy in the crook of his arm. “We all get turned around sometimes. Now then, who did you run into on the road?” 

“Gaffer told me to bring him here.” The threatened tears receded as Samwise remembered he had a story to tell. “He was asking around for Mister Baggins. It’s Kili from your stories.” 

“That’s not possible.” Fili frowned and at last he looked up, really taking in who stood before him.

“I would say it is possible.” Kili said quietly. “For here I am.” 

Fili stared at him. The children had all caught up by now, standing in a ragged group behind Fili. The oldest, a willowy boy with bright blue eyes, broke the spell by reaching out and tugging off the child that still hung on Fili’s back.

“It’s nearly tea time.” The boy cast a look between Fili and Kili. “Should I take them in for washing up?” 

“Yes.” Fili shook himself as if from out of a spell.”Thank you, Frodo. If I’m not back in a few minutes, go ahead and cut up the rest of the loaf from second breakfast and use up the last of the strawberry jam for their tea.” 

It took some doing, herding the children back into the house, but in the end it was only them with a span of ten feet still between them and the air thick with the unspoken. Once Kili would have been the first to fill a silence between them, always full of words, but they had deserted him as he grew up. Now he could only sort through his maelstrom of emotion and hope that Fili had some idea of how to bridge the chasm between them. 

“Is he dead then?” Was what finally emerged from Fili’s lips. 

“No! No. Thorin lives.” For who else could Fili mean? “Though the years have been unkind to him..” 

“Then why have you come?” Fili watched Kili carefully. 

“I thought you were dead. All these years. There’s a monument...” Kili had spent many tears over that cold tomb that he now knew had been empty and deaf to his sorrows. “They told me you died in battle. That as I lay wounded and unconscious, you were buried. But you know all that.”

“Yes.” Fili looked inscrutably back at him.

“Balin died in the winter.” Kili caught a flicker of sadness in the twitch of Fili’s mouth. “I take it you didn’t know. I offered to help sort through his things and no one stopped me. I suppose they didn’t know you had kept correspondence with him. The letters I found in his desk under lock and key. I read what there was, thin though it was.” 

“We had little to say to each other.” Fili tucked his hands behind his back. “I only wanted to know how everyone fared and he obliged me. I assume you took the letters to Thorin.” 

“Why would I do that?” Kili raised an eyebrow. “That you lived, I assumed he knew, but clearly it was meant to be a secret from me. Confronting him wouldn’t have worked. Instead I waited a few months and then made my pilgrimage here.” 

“So you’ve come for answers then.” Fili said tonelessly. 

“I’ve come because not bear another day knowing you were alive without seeing you.” Finally giving into impulse, Kili closed the distance between them and embraced him. “I mourned you. You do not know how I have grieved.” 

“I do.” Fiercely, Fili clung to him, burying his face in Kili’s braids. “Trust me that I do.” 

Kili’s eyes stung hot and he had to close them tightly to prevent the threatened spill, “I am no better than your little Samwise, staining your tunic.” 

“You’re a good sight larger and so would the mess be.” Fili pulled back, still gripping Kili’s arms tight. “Look at you. Full beard and even a few greys at the temple. Thinking with your head and not your heart. You’ve grown up.” 

“I’ve grown old.” Kili corrected and this close he could see that Fili had his fair share of greys though they blended in better with his light locks. “Fifty years, Fili. Why? Why all that time?” 

Fili’s hands fell away. 

“Because it was always better that you think me dead. I wish.....I wish you had not come even now though it does me good to see your face.” Fili turned away. “Come. Have tea with us. The little ones will want to rifle through your pockets and know all your stories.” 

“Fili!” He protested. 

“I will tell you all. There’s no helping that now.” Fili kept walking towards the house. “But not at this instant. Your travels will have made you hungry, I suspect.” 

Frustrated, but without another option, Kili trailed behind his brother. The sun glinted through the grey and blonde braid. At the very bottom, holding it all neatly together was a familiar clip. The silver hadn’t been allowed to tarnish. Its twin still rested in Kili’s hair, holding together two slim braids. Kili had to take three long deep breaths to steady himself. 

Inside Bag End was much as Kili remembered it. The children sat around the same dining room that had once housed a rowdy company. The knockabout noise of the children as they entered probably rivaled that fateful night. As soon as Fili entered, the chaos ceased and everyone fell back in their seats looking innocent. Frddo had jam smeared over one cheek. 

“Miscreants.” Fili declared with a half-smile. “Let’s try this again like you aren’t a pack of orcs. Frodo, go wash your face.” 

“Thanks, sir.” Frodo ducked out, fairly running. 

The children settled a little, tucking into their tea and chattering only at half the volume of a herd of horses. Kili took a tentative seat at the edge of one bench near enough to Fili’s position at the head of the table. A healthy cut of bread smeared liberally with jam wound up in front of him. Kili picked at it, too fraught to attempt a real meal. 

“Excuse me, sir.” One of the girls with wide green eyes tugged at Kili’s sleeve. “Are you really Kili?” 

“I’ve no other name.” He smiled at her. 

“Is it true that you once rode a horse when you were little and were too short and you crashed into a beehive and had to jump into a river to get away from the bees?” She asked in one breathless sentence.

“No!” He protested and then caught out at the memory laughed. “Well. It didn’t happen exactly like that.” 

“How did it happen then?” Frodo had returned, leaning in the doorway. 

“Well, I was dared for one thing.” Kili shot a look at Fili, who raised a challenging eyebrow. “My dear brother told me I was too small to ride, you see and that couldn’t be borne.” 

“And the bees?” 

“Did indeed chase me. It was Fili that tossed me in the river though. I never did have the sense to run away from danger and I was trying to swat them all.” He mimed beating at the air and a rash of giggles broke out. “They stung me swollen, I’ll tell you.” 

“And did you really scare a bear?” A snub nosed boy, the one who had clung to Fili’s back asked. “Did you growl at it?” 

“A bear?” Kili tried to remember, the hint of a memory teasing at the corner of his mind. 

“We were camping in the wilds. We’d cooked sausages like two fools and fell asleep without setting up a tent.” Fili prompted. “We woke up with him right over us.”

“Durin’s teeth! Yes, that poor bear.” Kili laughed. “He was just looking for a bit of easy meat and instead he got two crazy dwarfs. I threw sticks at him and jumped about like a fool. It was Fili that growled though.” 

After that the tidal gates had opened and it seemed they were all asking him questions at once. Kili replied as best as he could, shocked at the sheer amount that Fili remembered. None of the stories were made up (though many were exaggerated) and most of them were incidents that Kili barely recalled. Yet Fili had kept them all fresh, reciting them to these children who treated Kili like some kind of folk hero. 

The front door rattled opened, 

“Is my house still besieged?” A familiar voice called out. 

“Yes, Uncle!” Frodo called back. 

“Damnation.” Bilbo stuck his head around the door. He looked very much the same, a little greyer and a bit worn, but Kili would have recognized him anywhere. 

“Look, Mr. Baggins, Kili has come to visit!” Samwise slipped from his seat, lingering near Frodo as Bilbo walked in, eyes wide. 

“So he has. Kili as I live and breath.” Biblo shot a look at Fili. “I never expected to see you here. Have you come from Erebor? Has he...” 

“No, Thorin lives.” Kili frowned. “Is that truly the only way you could imagine I’d come?” 

“Yes.” 

“Come on, little ones.” Fili got to his feet. “You all should be on your way home. I’ll walk the farthest of you.” 

“I’m staying!” Merry cried out. “Aren’t I?” 

“Yes, of course.” Frodo smiled. “But you should walk Sam home with me, Merry.” 

The entire gang was gone within minutes, only upsetting a glass or two. Bilbo started picking up dishes and for lack of anything else to do, Kili helped. They wound up in the kitchen, washing a pile of plates. 

“You shouldn’t have come.” Biblo dried a bowl, setting it aside. 

“That’s what he said.” Kili looked out the small window, the sunset bursting lively and bright over the hills. “Why?” 

“It’s all history now. Layered over.” An apple arrived in Bilbo’s hand, bitten near in half and chewed over before he went on. “The first five years...I don’t care to remember. It’s over now though. This is his home. You coming, he’ll have to go through that all again. The scabs ripped off.” 

“Him?” Kili slumped against the counter. “What about me? Fifty years I thought he was dead. Fifty years I mourned for him. And it’s his cuts and bruises you’re worried over?” 

“Yes.” Biblo took another bite of his apple. “He’s the one that’s been my friend since we left. We’re strangers you and I. Though you look a bit like a boy I knew once.” 

Kili stayed silent as had become his habit when he wasn’t sure what to say. Instead he watched the light slant over the cozy kitchen as Bilbo fussed over dinner. Frodo returned with Merry, bringing with them laughter and some kind of game that involved a mug and a ball that Kili had trouble following. 

Fili came in much later, late enough that the boys had the run of the conversation while dinner was served. Kili picked through the potatoes and carrots, mostly watching Fili. His brother’s attention was on the boys, interspersed with a few easy jokes with Bilbo. He looked utterly at home, the only unease from his few brief glances at Kili. 

He considered just leaving. He could sleep rough one night. It had been years since he’d slept under the light of the moon. Perhaps he could camp and make peace with whatever had happened here. Or sense of it. Or just scream into the unfeeling night. 

“You can come home with me.” Fili declared, stirring Kili from his gloomy thoughts. “I’ve a spare bed that’ll do.” 

“I’ve guest rooms to spare.” Bilbo interrupted. “You hardly have to-” 

“But I do.” Fili said firmly. “In fact, we’ll go now. I’ll be at the smithy tomorrow, remember.” 

“I remember.” Biblo rolled his eyes. “Just as long as the Proudfeet do. You know I hate shepherding those beasts back home.” 

“I reminded them.” Fili ruffled Frodo’s hair. “Thank you for your help today, lad.” 

Both boys hugged Fili before they let him go and had smiles for Kili as he said his goodnights. He followed Fili outside, the first sting of an incoming chill in the air. Fili pulled out a pipe, filled it and lit it. He took one long draw and then blew it out in a long stream as if expelling the entire day’s emotion. 

“This way.” Fili sauntered down the path passed a row of hobbit holes. Down and to the right there was a pub with its door wide open and merry song pouring out. Kili wondered if Fili went there sometimes, sat among the hobbits or sang himself. He couldn’t quite imagine it. 

“Samwise called you his teacher.” 

“That’s what I am.” Fili shrugged. “I run the smithy, but there’s never been enough to do. Hobbits don’t have as much metal work. I fix a few pots, make a few belt buckles...it was too much free time. It started with one or two of the younger kids coming by. I’d tell the stories, teach them a few letters. Then more and more started showing up. Biblo was the one who suggested I charge a few coins though most of it comes out in trade.” 

“Trade?” 

“I don’t have to buy much food.” Fili shrugged. “And they built me a house.” 

“They...what?” 

“A house.” Fili pushed open a small gate. “I was living with Bilbo. Then there was this.” 

This turned out to be another house in a hill, but instead of a round door there was rectangular wood and iron affair. Fili pulled out a key, opening into a hall that could have been a part of Erebor itself. 

“How did they do this?” Kili pressed his hand to the cool stone. 

“No idea.” Fili sat on low bench and pried off his shoes, pipe still clenched in his teeth. “I’ve a few guesses, but they won’t tell me. Hobbits are very serious about their gift giving.” 

“You must be a fine teacher.” 

“I’m the first. Hobbits teach at home traditionally. Ignorance sometimes gets passed down for generations. I’d taught you well enough, so I figured...why not?” The second boot came off with a thud. “No idea what I was doing for a while, but I manage.” 

“I guess so.” 

Fili tapped the stem of his pipe against his teeth, “I have some whiskey.” 

“Yes, please.” Kili supplied though it hadn’t quite been an offer. 

The house wasn’t large, but it was well enough for a dwarf living on his own. There was a living room with a fireplace and two wingback chairs. Kili settled into the one that looked far less worn on a guess and was rewarded with Fili took the other with the ease of long habit. The whiskey was poured into two glasses. Kili took his and sipped it with appreciation. 

“From Rohan.” Fili rested his own glass on his thigh. “It’s amazing the trade that manages to come out this far.” 

“Fili.” He said nothing else, the name burning on his lips. 

“Yes, all right.” Fili stared at the empty grate. It was too warm for a fire. “The great question: What happened?” 

“Please.” 

“I caught Biblo stealing the arkenstone.” Fili tilted his head back as if the memory was painted on the stone ceiling. “And I helped him.” 

Kili turned the sentence over and over. Fili had caught their friend in that legendary act of betrayal and aided him. Of all the terrible things Kili had imagined from the time he discovered the letters, that had not been one of them. 

“Why?” He asked because it was the only question that occurred to him.

“Thorin would have led us to our deaths for that bit of rock. And make no mistake. That’s all it was.” For the first time, Kili heard a hint of the Fili he remembered, the one full of fire. “I caught Bilbo and I looked at him and I thought ‘I don’t want to die for this’.” 

“When did Thorin find out?” 

“They knew immediately. I left with Bilbo. When the battle was done, Dwalin found me and told me not to bother returning to the mountain. My trial had been completed while the armies still bled and tore at each other. They did me the courtesy of a false funeral. Best not to smear the name of Durin.” Fili at last looked at Kili, lips in a thin line. “I wrote as soon as I had arrived. When I left...you were near death and they would not let me stay by your side.” 

“I have scars.” That was an understatement, the gouge that nearly cut him in two had left a thick line from collarbone to hip. “It was a near thing.” 

“But you survived it.” 

“Yes.” Kili wasn’t sure what Fili was really saying, sure there was something underneath it. 

“We both lived. That’s what I wanted.” At last Fili took a drink, not a small sip, but a gulp that finished off the glass. “That’s why I did it.” 

“I think....then I would have been furious.” Kili rubbed a hand over his eyes. “But I would have understood, even then. Now, it’s ancient history.” 

“Is it?” Fili set down his glass and didn’t reach for the bottle again. “Not, I would imagine, to Thorin.” 

“No. But he has a history of grudges.” Kili set down his own barely touched glass. “He won’t be king forever.” 

“And I suppose you will offer me salvation? An end to all of this?” Fili gestured around. “I’m not miserable or pining here. This is my life.” 

“I remember,” Kili’s throat was dry, “when your life included me.” 

“And you think that I’ve forgotten?” Fili hands were shaking. It was a subtle thing, hard to see in the lamp light. 

“I never married.” Kili said quietly. “I never had a child.” 

“I know. But there’s Dain now, isn’t there? An heir maker, I’m sure.” 

“Not yet, but one day.” Kili couldn’t imagine his younger brother married, let alone a father. There was no depth to Dain, only a good sense of humor and a love of pleasure. Then again, Kili had once been like that and look what had become of him. “I hope. And you?” 

“What of me?” Fili leaned forward, elbows to knees and they could have been around a different fire long ago, a different confession lingering between them. Kili felt as new and frightened as he had then. “Do you think that I could forget? Take a hobbit lass as a lover, perhaps? Or a lad? Or dally with human whores? What do you take me for?” 

“It’s still your name on my lips when I fall asleep at night.” Mirroring Fili, Kili leaned forward until their breath mingled. “You were dead and I still loved you.” 

“Don’t do this.” Fili pleaded, not drawing away. “There’s no compromise that makes this work. There’s no life we share anymore.” 

“Would you have me leave here without you then? Return to the mountain and pretend that you’re dead? Or worse, keep up some withered correspondence?” Kili swallowed hard. “Would you send me away?” 

“You’ll be the King under the Mountain. What else can you do?” 

There was no answer that would sound rational, so Kili did the only thing that he could. He had always preferred to speak with his body anyway. He still remembered the way of Fili’s lips, the soft cant of them against his own. Everything was familiar, yet newly foriegn with age betraying them both. No more the instant passion of youth that would have erased all thought and care from the moment to tumble them to the floor. 

“You’ll break my heart.” Fili whispered though if it was a warning or just a reminder to himself, Kili couldn’t be sure. 

“Mine has been in pieces for years.” Kili slid his fingers over Fili’s neck, keeping him close. 

“There’s a guest bedroom. It’s nice enough. Soft linens and a good night’s rest.” Fili closed his eyes, forehead pressed to Kili’s. 

“Your bedroom.” Kili rubbed his thumb slowly over the soft skin just beneath the hair pulled taut into the thick braid. “No rest at all. That’s what I want.” 

“And you think that I’ll give you whatever it is you ask for?” 

“I think that fifty years is a long time to go without sharing your bed.” Kili swallowed hard. “I will beg you if you make me. Please don’t make me.” 

Fili didn’t make him. Together they put out the lamps and walked down the hall to Fili’s bedroom. It was a windowless affair, beautifully dark and cool. With tender care, Kili laid his brother down and rediscovered him. He found the body much unchanged, though a little softer in some places and more reluctant to be stirred in others. Fili still huffed out barely there noises when Kili took his time and sank his fingers into Kili’s hair when he sped up the pace. 

When the tables turned and it was Fili’s fingers tracing Kili’s flesh, it was all Kili could do to keep from making rash promises. In their youth, Fili could coax all sorts of insane things from him in this way. Instead, Kili turned his tongue to the one thing he knew to be true, 

“I love you.” He repeated over and over until the words lost all meaning in a hopeless slur. 

When it was over, Fili lay down on his stomach, chin resting over his folded arms. Kili rolled onto his side, knees grazing Fili’s hip. It was their only point of contact and Kili felt it keenly. 

“I used to wish I had died with you.” Kili admitted into the hush. “It was stupid, I realize that now. But it hurt so much. Sleeping in a bed we’d never shared.” 

“When did you stop wishing that?” 

“When it was almost granted. There are still bands of orcs and goblins that cross our gates to test their mettle against the mountain. Perhaps they will always be waiting for us.” He shivered a little, cooling sweat prickling over his skin. “I rode out after a rabble. We slaughtered them, but in the heat of the battle I must have taken a scratch from one of their daggers. Poisoned. I was delirious in minutes, near death by nightfall. When the moon rose in a sliver, I told myself that it was the last light I would see and closed my eyes to it.” 

“But you lived.” Fili at last reached out as if to assure himself of it. His fingers found the curve of Kili’s shoulder, resting lightly there.

“Yes. Because in that darkness, there was no solace. You weren’t there waiting for me as I always believed. And if you weren’t there then death was no better than life.But in life I had obligations to fulfill after all.” He smiled tightly. “So I fought. And I lived.” 

“You are a man of duty now, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry that I’m not laughing child you remember.” He moved closer, settling his head on the pillow close to Fili’s. 

“So am I.” Fili smoothed his hand over Kili’s shoulder and around his back to pull him closer still. “I loved him very much.” 

“Perhaps you can spare a little for what I’ve become.” He sounded hoarse and bitter to his own ears. “It was you that shaped me whether you intended it or not.” 

“I loved the boy because he was joyous.” Fili studied him, searching his face. “I love the man because he is good.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know you.” Reaching down, Fili found the discarded blanket and drew it over them. “A few years and hard choices won’t change that. Now sleep. Perhaps you can do without, but I cannot.” 

In truth, Kili could not spend a sleepless night without consequences anymore. He shifted a little under the blanket and rest found him, dragging him deeper into darkness. His dreams were fragmented things. When he woke, they flew from him and took their meaning with them. 

Fili had already vacated the bed. Kili rolled and stretched, wincing at his protesting joints before pulling on his pants and shuffling into the hall to investigate. He found the bathroom easily enough, pleased with the deep tub carved there. Whoever had built this house knew the ways of dwarfs and had accommodated them. Further inspection brought him into the kitchen, where Fili sat at the table clinging to a mug of tea. There were windows in the kitchen, fat panes of glass starting to sag downwards. 

“There’s scones on the counter if you want.” Fili didn’t look up from his tea as if it might produce all the answers if he stared at it long enough. 

“Thanks.” He took one, settled down close to Fili. 

“I open the smithy on Tuesdays.” Fili said eventually. “They’ll be expecting me.” 

“All right.” 

Without further discussion, Kili watched as Fili got ready for the day. He dressed in much the same clothes he’d worn the day before and righted his braid. He kept looking over his shoulder, catching Kili’s gaze and a smile warred with a frown on his lips. When he reached the front door, Kili stood patiently beside him. 

“Are you coming with me?” 

“Yes.” Kili stepped out into another warm, bright day. 

“I doubt it will be interesting.” 

“If I am to have only a small slice of you, then I will have every moment of it.” 

“Ridiculous child.” Fili clucked, an old nickname that warmed Kili right through. “Come along then.” 

With the first flush of morning, the Shire seemed a little more lively. Women stood outside their homes beating rugs or sweeping their stone paths. Men tended the gardens or shooed their livestock out into the fields to graze. All of them had a wave or smile for Fili, eyeing his new companion with interest and a bit of suspicion. 

And of course there were the children. They emerged from greenery to greet Fili or offer him up a story or a bit of fruit. To each of them Fili gave his attention and pat, not stinting in his affections though it made his trip three or four times as long. 

The smithy, when they arrived, wasn’t much compared to the grand ironworks of Erebor. It was a modest enough shop in a row of them. Fili tied on a long leather apron and thick leather gloves before building and stoking the fire. Kili found a bench at the front, probably for customers, settling on it. He watched Fili move with practiced grace, setting out his tools and taking account of his small stockroom. 

“Good morning, sir.” An elderly hobbit smiled at Kili, her face a mass of wrinkles and her hair in two long white braids. “I’ve got your breakfast, dear. Would’ve made for two if I knew you had a guest.” 

“Thanks, Dandy.” Fili took a wrapped bundle from her. “You know you don’t have to feed me, let alone whoever else turns up.” 

“Don’t be stupid.” She sat down next to Kili on the bench, a walking stick settled next to her. “You know it keeps me going. Now, what’s a handsome dwarf like you doing here?” 

“Visiting.” Kili smiled at her, charmed despite himself. “Worst kind of guest though, wholly uninvited.” 

“This is Kili.” Fili supplied as he cracked a hard boiled egg from the bundle against the countertop, rolling off the shell. “Kili, this is my dear friend Dandelion Brandywine.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Kili offered his hand and shook her fragile one lightly. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” She studied his face. 

“Misadventures of my youth?” He guessed. 

“Some of those.” She glanced at Fili, who was busy picking fragments of shell from his breakfast. “And a few others.” 

“I am at a loss then.” Kili said. “You know me and I know nothing about you.” 

“Very little to know.” She shrugged. 

“That’s a lie.” Fili flicked a fragment of shell at her though it fell harmlessly into her lap. “Dandy here not only raised five children on her own, but she is the best brewmaster in the Shire. Kegs of her ale had been drunk by kings.” 

“It was only one king and a steward.” She corrected. “And it’s only because of the local hops, you know. If more people brewed with Shire hops, better things would come of it. Anyway, I’m retired now.” 

“If you call being a consultant to eight other breweries retirement.” 

“Don’t listen to him.” Dandy laughed, her teeth still white and even in her sunken face. “If I could, I would spend every day on this bench dozing in the sun.” 

By midmorning, Kili was convinced that Dandy had never dozed a minute in her life. For every person who walked in the door, she had a greeting, a flurry of questions and a bit of news to share. When they finally made their way to Fili and their actual business, she gave him the best gossip. 

She was so entertaining that it took Kili far too long to notice that most of Fili’s customers weren’t there for metal work at all. Oh, they all brought a bit of work with them. Pots, pans and belt buckles as Fili had said, but they all lingered long after the initial consult. 

“Am I missing something?” He asked Dandy when the fifth customer lingered long enough to become distracting. “Or is every lad and lass coming in here having a go at him?” 

“Him?” She laughed. “No. Maybe once when he first came and it was all a bit exotic, but we all learned right quick that he had eyes for his work and not much else.” 

“So why all the hemming and hawing?” He inclined his chin to where a keen eyed lad made fast conversation with Fili. 

“Hm. Well.” She coughed. “Do you know that we don’t hold much with religion here?” 

“No...I don’t know much about hobbits, I must admit. I’ve only ever known one though I thought very well of him.” 

“That’ll be our Mister Baggins then.” Dandy frowned. “He’s not exactly your typical hobbit fare. Most would tell you they think he’s a bit mad. Me, I think he’s the kind who got a taste of the outside and gotten in his blood. We’re a closed up lot mostly, sticking close to home and enjoying our little comforts. Our lives our simple and maybe that’s why we don’t talk much about the gods or their ways. Most of the time, we figure live and let live. We leave the gods alone and they leave us alone.” 

“Practical.” Kili acknowledged. “I like the sound of it, actually.” 

“I thought you might.” She patted his knee as if he’d done something clever. “That said, it doesn’t stop us from being as superstitious as the next race. When Fili first came, took up the old smithy here and made it a real business again, he signed his runes into his work. Suppose that’s traditional for dwarfs?” 

“Keeps us from repairing other people’s work for free. Can’t remember everything you make.” He agreed. “And if it’s good work, reminds the user where it came from.” 

“Well, it was the first we’d ever seen of it. People started to notice that what he fixed stayed fixed and what he made never broke. Suppose it was because he was a good smith, trained for it and such, but like I said, we’re superstitious. Pair that with the little prayers he said over his work and people started getting the thought in their head that our Fili was a little bit magic. ” 

“Magic.” Kili was nearly amused, except hadn’t he thought the same thing once though for different reasons? “So his customers...” 

“They come for a blessing on their homes or their crops. He won’t hear of being paid for things like that, so our way is to bring him something to repair instead. For that he’ll take coin or trade.” She shrugged. “I don’t think Mahal thinks much of hobbits, but it’s kind of Fili to humor us. He’s become something like a priest, really.” 

“A teacher.” Kili did smile now. “You know, for us they are the same? We don’t really have formal priests or shamans. Anyone that teaches is considered holy.” 

“Well, there you have it then. Your brother is a holy man.” 

The thought contented Kili though he couldn’t say why. He watched more carefully now and saw the exchanges as they took place. Fili didn’t seem to do much really. He listened and gave a little advice perhaps, then spoke a few words in what Kili could only make out was Khuzdal without catching specifics. 

“When I was a boy, he taught me my letters. I thought he was magic then myself.” He told Dandy. 

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” She patted his knee again. 

Just when hunger had begun to catch up with Kili and Dandy was gathering herself to return home, Merry came running up to the smithy with Frodo in hot pursuit. Both boys were flushed with laughter and had to take a long time to calm down to deliver their message. 

“My aunt and uncle have come visiting!” Merry finally sputtered out. “The Thain himself sitting down to tea with Bilbo. They’ve brought my new cousin and he’s the smallest thing.” 

“You weren’t much bigger when you were only two months old.” Frodo scolded, looking a little less pink cheeked. “Anyway, Biblo told us to come and tell you that you should come to the house tonight for dinner. To meet the baby.” 

“Should I?” Fili laughed. “And did he put it so baldly?” 

“Well, he said it nicer.” Merry agreed. “But you just have to come! It’s my cousin, you know.” 

“And does he have a name?” 

“Peregrin.” Frodo put out. “His mother’s idea, I bet. They go in for long names on her side.” 

“Peregrin.” Merry made a face. “That’s nearly as bad as Meriadoc. He’ll need a nickname.” 

“Plenty of time to sort that out.” Fili gave them both glasses of water. “You’ll sweat your brains straight of your heads at this rate. Now, when you’ve got your breath back, walk back to Bag End and tell them I’ll come.” 

“Good.” Merry drank down his water in one long swallow then took off again. Frodo looked at his back in resignation. 

“He’ll be the death of me.” The older boy complained. 

“Ach, don’t say such things.” Fili thumped him lightly on the shoulder. “It does you good. Get a little sun on those pale cheeks. Now off with you. Make sure Merry doesn’t fall in the creek again in his haste.” 

“Yes, sir.” Frodo took off at a dutiful trot. 

“Now that is a familiar scene.” Kili laughed. “Though it’s good to see you in mother’s role instead of weary older brother.” 

“Oh, to the pit with you.” Fili grinned, broad and genuine at him. It was the first real smile Kili had seen and he was surprised by how it curled his toes in his boots in delight. “I’ll bet I can still chase you down if I had half a mind on it.” 

“Perhaps, but I’m not inclined to run off anytime soon.” Kili stretched with teasing intention.  
“I might give you a reason.” Fili watched Kili with darkening eyes. “Just to watch you try to escape me.” 

“Listen to you both.” Dandy cackled. “You’ll give me a heart attack with that kind of talk. Honestly, Fili if I had known that this was what I was competing with I never would have tried at all!” 

“You were always much prettier than him.” Fili winked at her. “But I’m afraid the battle was lost before it was begun.” 

“It’s my natural charisma.” Kili’s heart was fit to burst then, the flirtation easing the iron bindings he had kept it in for years. “And remarkable persistence.” 

“Nagging, you mean.” Fili sniffed. “Worse than a wife, you were.” 

“Better than, I think you mean.” Kili almost bounced his seat. “I could cook, clean and hit a target from a half-mile off. How many wives can do that?” 

“Perhaps you should be the one in the apron.” Fili made as if to untie it. 

“I was never any good at metalwork.” He waggled his fingers. “Delicate hands. Good for fine work.” 

“What work was that?” Dandy cut in, her eyes shining merrily. 

“Fletcher.” Fili tossed a knife at Kili’s head, grinning when it was handily caught. Then after a pause to shuffle through a scrap pile, he tossed him a heavy branch. “Do your delicate hands still know their work or has politics robbed you of your craft?” 

“I’ll show you robbed.” He gave the knife a once over and just to needle Fili, sharpened it on the whetstone he kept in a pouch on his belt. 

“I can see this will take some time to sort out.” Dandy got to her feet, smiling like a loon. “Adeena will come with your lunch, I’m sure. Remember to eat, please.” 

“Yes, m’am.” Fili returned to the filigree he was mending, but he couldn’t hide his answering grin. 

Kili had kept up with his profession, finding that at the end of a day of talk it still felt good to use his hands. It was more of a hobby these days though all the arrows in his quiver were his own. As if the flirtation had brought down the dam, Fili began to ask questions and Kili answered them gladly. 

“Have you come to like diplomacy?” Fili asked with a raised brow when Kili finished telling him about the Great Conference between the men of Dale, Erebor and the Mirkwood elves that had become an annual event. 

“Like it?” Kili stopped with his knife halfway through a shaving stroke. “I don’t know. I suppose. Certainly I like it when I get what I wish. Mostly it’s a lot of arguing without sounding like you’re arguing. The elves are surprisingly easy, actually. They tell the truth and expect the same from us. It’s men that are tricky. Mostly I listen.” 

“And what of Thorin?” 

“What of him?” Kili peeled back the rest of the strip, before setting knife and branch in his lap. “I told you time hasn’t been kind to him. His body is fine, fit. But he has become stubborn and restless of late. Unable to concentrate. He prefers to be outside then trapped in dull meetings. So I speak for him.” 

“Kili. Are you telling me that you’ve been acting as the King?” 

“Not quite. Well. ...Mostly?” He frowned. “Only for the last five or six years.” 

“Then who is running things right now?” 

“Oh, Dwalin can handle things for a few weeks.” Kili shrugged. “It’s a quiet season and I’ve not taken any kind of break in a decade. No one begrudged me a hunting trip.” 

“And when you bring back no deer?” 

“I am Prince. They assume if I’m taking my ease for the first time in years it is to whore and booze with the hunting a polite fiction. Most likely that is what Dain and Gimli are up to right now.” He could see the arrow now, a few turns with a lathe away. “Hunting is a polite fiction.” 

“If they knew you’d come to see me...” 

“But they don’t.” Kili said firmly. “And even if they did, it would mean admitting that they’ve spent the last five decades lying to me. No one would want to admit that now.” 

“They respect you, don’t they?” Fili had set aside his work to watch him. “Probably despite themselves.” 

“I suppose.” He shrugged. “I do what needs to be done.” 

“Except that you ran away to see me.” 

“Except that.” Kili agreed. 

Three shafts came from the bits of wood Fili could scrounge up, Kili working on them as the afternoon customers trickled in and out. 

“We should clean up for dinner.” Fili declared when the sun had started its trek towards the hills. 

“I don’t think I was invited.” Kili returned the knife and left the arrows. Without feathers or access to the forge, he couldn’t finish them anyway. 

“The Thain and his wife won’t care.” 

“Bilbo wasn’t pleased to see me.” 

“Hm.” Fili closed up shop with the same ease he’d opened it. “Well. He has his reasons, I suppose. He’s a good host these days. He won’t complain if there’s one extra.” 

“He said that I would tear open your wounds.” 

“Isn’t that poetic?” Fili headed back towards his house, Kili jogging a little to catch up with his suddenly brisk pace. “I didn’t...do very well in the beginning.” 

“He said five years.” 

“He has a big mouth.” Fili growled, then let out an irritated huff. “No. I should be kinder. I suppose he was looking out for me as much as he can. Five years is a bit of exaggeration, but it was hard for me in the beginning. Not just missing you, though that was the largest part. It was everything. Cast out from my people...at least you had that. I kept thinking that at least you still had our parents and Thorin. You weren’t alone.” 

Kili had no reply. He had felt very much alone, but he could see how it would be worse to deal with the grief among strangers, who spoke a different language and cared about utterly alien things. He trailed Fili back to the stone house in the hill and tried to decide which would be worse. To live in exile, knowing his beloved still lived or his mournful existence of the last fifty years. They seemed equally dreadful to him.

When they returned, Fili disappeared into the bathroom and emerged in a cloud of steam and a towel around his waist. 

“Your turn.” He said briskly. 

“That bathtub is big enough for two.” 

“Good to know that some things never change.” Fili snorted. “We’ll be late and that won’t do. Go on.” 

“As you wish.” 

The bath was still hot and he slid into the water with a grateful groan. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had to share bathwater. It didn’t trouble him though, he liked to think of Fili here only moments before and pressed the sweet slimy soap over his skin where it must have caressed Fili. It took some doing to lever himself out again. 

The clothing he had brought was more suited to travel then dinner. Kili left off his coat for the sake of the summer air and figured it made him presentable enough by hobbit standards in his black trousers, white shirt and embroidered open vest. 

“You still preen.” Fili commented as he watched him pull on the bracers he never went without. “Pretty Kili.” 

“I always liked that nickname.” He admitted, pulling his boots back on. 

“Did you? I thought you hated it.” 

“I thought I should hate it.” He turned, presenting himself. “But I’ve missed hearing it.” 

“It still fits, even with your greys. Maybe more.” Fili rose and kissed him right at the temple where the grey had made its first incursion. “My pretty Kili.” 

“Handsome Fi.” Kili returned, hand on Fili’s waist. “But we’ll be late you said.” 

“So I did.” 

They could hear the dinner before they got up to the house and as soon as they entered it was apparent that more than the Thain’s immediate family had come with him. Bilbo’s house was overflowing with Tooks, an entire gaggle of women cooking up a storm in the kitchen while the men rolled in kegs from the cart outside. 

“Here he is!” Frodo called out. “Master Fili has arrived!” 

A ragged cheer went up and the activity only intensified. They were brought into the maelstrom and settled at the dining room table, ale mugs pressed into their hands. From deep in the house a rowdy song began and was taken up among all the others, verse after verse. Biblo threw up his hands and plunked down at the end of the table. He seemed to understand the irony though, tipping them both a cheeky wink. Kili had to hide his face in Fili’s shoulder as he laughed so hard, tears pricked at the corner of his eyes. 

“Look,” said the roundest hobbit Kili had ever seen, “our Fili has a guest! And who might you be, Master Dwarf?” 

“You sit with royalty tonight, Thain.” Bilbo announced. “This is Kili, Crown Prince of Erebor.” 

“Well, I’ll be.” The Thain leaned forward, hand stuck out. “And a pleasure it is then. Eh. Erebor? That’s to the West? Always was terrible with geography.” 

“Have no concern about it, sir. If I lived in these hills, I wouldn’t bother with it either.” Kili smiled. 

“Ah! Nicely said.” Thain raised his mug. “Toast with me then, prince of the West. To my first born son.” 

“To Peregrin!” Yelled the company and a brief silence ensued as everyone drank. 

Dinner was a more put together affair, table manners mostly observed. Fili shot him an amused look as Kili cut his meat in the mannish style with knife set down between bites. He shrugged, unabashed. He had learned early that meals were the heart of diplomacy and offending with bad etiquette was a bad foot to begin on. 

Most of the revelers took the party on the road when the last of the dishes were stacked away. The Prancing Pony apparently was the lucky recipient of their business that night. Eventually only the Thain, his wife Eglantine holding the babe, Bilbo, Frodo and a very sleep Merry remained around the table. 

“Would you?” Eglantine asked Fili. 

“Let me see him.” He held out his arms and she put the baby into them with the same trust she might have given a nurse. Fili held the child carefully, studying the small features. A storm cloud gathered in his face. “Yes, I can.” 

Quietly as he could without lapsing into silence, Fili began to recite an all too familiar prayer. The words looked to physically hurt Fili, wrenching out of him one by one. Without quite intending it, Kili started to recite along with him. It seemed to bolster Fili who sat up a little straighter and spoke more clearly.

“...achen osher veenu icanna.” They finished together. 

“So it has been asked of Mahal.” Kili added, aware that the traditional refrain would be unknown to the parents. “So mote it be.” 

“Thank you, Fili.” The Thain beamed as the baby was returned to his mother’s arms, having slept through the entire event. “It means much to us.” 

“He will be a special child.” Fili said tightly. “I think...I need rest.” 

“Are you quite all right?” Bilbo got to his feet. “You can stay here tonight if you wish.” 

“No, thank you. Kili can see me safely home.” Fili waved off his friend. “Have a good night.” 

They went out, Kili making hurried goodbyes as they departed in a flurry. Out on the road, Fili slowed and drew in deep breaths as if he had been choking. 

“The Veenu Icanna?” Kili watched him. “Is that the prayer you’ve said over all their babes?” 

“What do you take me for?” Fili snapped. “Of course not. Generally it’s Ginta Gala for fertility in the fields and in their beds or Banach for craftsman. Do you think I would wish such a thing on a child?” 

“You gave it to me.” Kili pointed out mildly. “Mother still speaks of that day. Five years old and bestowing the first prayer.” 

“I did it then for the same reason I do now. Mahal put it on my tongue.” 

They walked in silence until something terrible occured to Kili. 

“How many times have you given Veenu Icanna since you’ve come here?” 

“Four. Frodo, Sam, Merry and now Peregrin.” Fili confirmed. “You know what that means. Evil is coming back into this world as Gandalf once warned us. Everything is in danger.” 

They reached Fili’s house, slipping inside. Kili didn’t allow Fili to take off his boots, pressing him up against the door and taking him in a series of rough kisses. Too many facts were falling into place, painting a picture that Kili wasn’t ready to see. Instead he buried himself in Fili, filling himself with his brother’s scent. After some intense shoving on Fili’s part, they did make it to the bedroom. There Kili slowed, drawing it out and turning it into a languid dance. 

When they finished, there was only the energy left for sleep. Kili pulled Fili to him, taking advantage of his langor to fit against him. They fell asleep like that, Kili’s lips still mouthing kisses on the nape of Fili’s neck. 

The morning came too swiftly, the sun finding them entwined. Kili rubbed his nose over the curve of Fili’s shoulder. 

“You must stay.” He said to the faint freckles floating just under the milky pale skin. “Your children will need you. I understand that now. When you choose to help Bilbo, you were fulfilling the Veenu Icanna. Taking the path out of the darkness. These children, they were always intended to be in your care. Only you can show them the way to manage it. Teach them to be strong in the face of terrible choices.” 

Fili captured Kili’s hand, tangling their fingers together and resting them over his heart. Kili went on, 

“I thought it a silly thing that prayer. An old superstition. I had never faced such a choice. But I can see it now before me. It’s my turn to choose. I could stay here with you or I can return to Erebor.” 

“You could still ask me to go with you.” Fili said softly. 

“No, that way is closed now. You would tell me no and be right to do so.” Kili sighed. “And I already know what I must choose. I cannot hide away here. If we are to be beset by darkness then I must prepare our people for it as best I can. There is no one else.” 

“When will you leave?” 

“Tomorrow. I cannot leave the Gimli and Dain alone in Bree much longer. But I will come back. A stolen week here or there shall have to sustain us.” 

“I don’t know if I can bear to say goodbye to you so often.” Fili turned at last, eyes red rimmed and Kili wondered if he had slept at all. 

“You must raise those boys, my love.” Kili kissed him softly. “But in the end, they will face their destiny on their own. Then you can come home to me. So you see, it will not be goodbye, not really.” 

“That will be many years.” 

“I’ve become good at waiting.” 

They could not linger long in bed. Fili had obligations and the world would not pause for their tender revelations. Instead, Kili watched Fili teach and stored up all the sun drenched memories he could for the long winter of their parting. 

**3018 , The Third Age**

“Our hunting parties have all reported it.” Bain set wooden figures at distressingly frequent intervals around the map. “The goblins are becoming more daring, coming closer to our borders. Six incursions last month alone.” 

“There are no more hunting parties.” Kili frowned, reaching forward to move several pieces together. “These are battalions now. War is coming to our doorstep.” 

“War?” Dwalin, these days mostly deaf and prone to shouting, banged upon the table. “From displaced pathetic bands of hungry goblins?” 

“The scouts reported in this morning.” Kili fished from his pocket the figure he had carved before retiring the night before. A massive tower. He placed it at the center of Mordor. “Armies are gathered there. Already Osgiliath has fallen.” 

“The affairs of men.” Dwalin dismissed. “What do we care of their squabbles?” 

“Let me make this clear. Here gather armies.” Kili stabbed at the map. “And here we stand, only a three day’s march away. Whether you like it or not, war is coming.” 

“Then we close up our doors.” Dwalin growled. “We can withstand any siege.” 

“And have it be known that the great kingdom of Erebor is willing to let the rest of the world burn?” Kili stared at him. “Let them think us cowards that would rather dwell with our coins than give aid when it is most required?” 

“Better your people should live! It’s what your Uncle would have wanted.” 

“I, as you so often remind me, am not Thorin. None more than I wish that he yet lived, but I am all the King you have and it is my blade that you are pledged.” Kili stared at Dwalin until the older dwarf looked away. “Bain?” 

“Yes, my lord?” Bain stood at attention. 

“Tell the men that we’re preparing for a war. We will call an emergency council with the men of Dale and the elves of Mirkwood. Darkness will fall over us all in equal measure. We should band together to fight it. Get me Nori.” 

“Yes, sir.” Bain bowed and left in a hurry. 

“You will be the end of us.” Dwalin told him. 

“If you have nothing more to add then portents and doom, remove yourself.” Kili snapped. “I will hear no more of it.” 

“As my King demands.” Dwalin pushed roughly away from the table, limping to the door. 

No sooner was he gone then Nori appeared in the doorway, bristling with quills and parchment. Kili dictated letter after letter, pacing the length of the floor as he spoke. Nori asked no questions, taking down his words without comment. Only when the last seal had been pressed did he say, 

“I have nearly died for lesser causes. If we are to make a stand, at least it will be on the right side of the battlefield.” 

“There will be some that do not agree.” Kili ceased his pacing. “Draft one more declaration for me. Tell all that do not wish to stand and fight that they are free to retreat to the roots of the mountain or travel to the holdings of the Ironfoot. Best to let the dissenters go now.” 

“If you order us to war, then we go.” Nori stared at him. “To speak against the king, to flee....that is punishable by death.” 

“I will not begin this war with my hands soaked in the blood of my own people. Let them go if they wish. Tell Dwalin first, perhaps he can stand leader to them.” 

Nori shook his head, but retreated to carry out his orders. Alone at last, Kili left behind the throne room to retreat to his study. It had been Thorin’s room for many years and his possessions still ranged along the shelves. Only recently had Kili begun to make it his own, the bow and arrow hung on the wall behind his desk, books in elven script nudged alongside traditional Khuzdal tomes and a few pictures sketched roughly under the sun on a green hill took the place of gem studded sculptures. 

Though Kili desperately wanted to a few minutes to compose himself, instead he set into his correspondence. Feverish letters from every corner of the map had been arriving all month and now he could address them with more than vagaries. 

Halfway through the pile, the door cracked open and small tousled head peeked around. Kili ducked his head further over his work and pretended not to notice. A shadow pressed through and the door closed quietly behind it. With practiced quiet, the tiny body insinuated itself under his desk to press up against his legs. Kili hid a smile. 

“Boo!” Said the boy and Kili pretended to start. 

“Where did you come from, imp?”

“From the door. I was very quiet.” The boy pointed and looked up hopefully at Kili. “Mama says dinner.” 

“Does she now?” Kili reached down and picked the boy up, settling his nephew in his lap. That Dain had settled so quickly into marriage and fatherhood still astonished him, but he was forever grateful. Little Thorin was the pride of their house and Kili’s greatest joy in dark days. “And did she send you to wheedle me from my work?” 

“There’s cheese and the crunchy crackers.” Thorin looked over the piles of letters. “These look boring.” 

“They are.” Kili stood, shifting Thorin to his hip. “Dinner sounds like a much better prospect.” 

His sister-in-law’s table was generally a harmonious one and Kili took his ease among gentle conversation. No one acknowledged that the King sat among them, treating him only as a beloved relative. It was a fiction Kili was delighted to maintain and he spent most of the meal that night coaxing Thorin to try a bit of spinach. Eventually he wrapped it around a slice of cheese and the boy gave it a cautious nibble. 

“Good?” Kili asked, then laughed as the boy pulled a face of disgust. “Guess not.” 

“Sire?” Someone knocked at the front door. “I’m sorry to interupt, but there is a matter of some urgency.” 

“Here.” Dain poured a cup of tea into a thick mug. “Take this with you. No doubt you’ll be up to all hours.”

“Thank you, brother.” Kili kissed Thorin’s forehead. “Good night, little one.” 

It was Olik waiting behind the door, a young warrior who had he lost his leg in a nasty warg fight. It should have been the end of the boy’s career, but Olik had proved he was twice as fierce as any other fighter. When Kili found him sword fighting and winning against bullying adversaries, he had made him a part of his personal guard retinue on the spot. That choice had won Kili a fierce ally, who had saved him on more than one occasion. 

“There is a stranger at the gates. A dwarf, but no one recognizes him.” Olik began as soon as they were out of earshot of Dain’s rooms. “He says that he will speak only to you. He carries with him a letter bearing your seal.” 

“Does he wear his hair in one long braid?” Kili demanded, quickening his pace even as his left knee protested the strain. 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“Bring him directly to my rooms. Ask him no more questions.” 

“You trust him? These are strange days, my lord, to be letting strangers into your private rooms.” 

“I trust him as I would trust my brother.” 

“As you would, sire.” 

Kili hadn’t taken over the King’s chambers after Thorin’s passing. He had lived in the more modest Prince’s suite for too long to bother. He never entertained there, preferring the large public spaces for such events. He waited in the living space, building up a fire and attempting to compose himself. 

“This way, sir.” He heard Olik say, steady footfalls ushering them both inside. 

Fili entered slowly, fatigue clinging to him. It had been three years since they had last seen each other, but Kili was pleased to find Fili much unchanged. A few more lines around his eyes and mouth, thick blonde hair still shading slowly to white, but he was still much himself. 

“Hello, my love.” Fili said softly. 

“You’ve come.” Kili clasped Fili’s forearms. “At last.” 

“I’ll just be going then. I’ll see that you aren’t disturbed tonight.” Olik was flushed pink and Kili spared him a grateful smile. “Good night, my lord.”

“What must he think?” Fili laughed rustily. 

“That I have a hidden lover? It’s only what everyone has guessed at for years. They’ll be pleased to know you aren’t an elf or some other shameful thing.” 

“No, only your exiled brother.” 

“That fact, I believe we will not advertise.” Kili pulled him toward the couch by the fire. “Come sit, you look done in.” 

“My journey was long and not without peril.” Fili sat down with a grateful sigh. “It’s begun.” 

“I know. Morder stirs. Erebor prepares for war. What of your boys?” 

Fili hunched over, elbows touching his knees and face buried in his hands. He seemed unable to speak. Kili put an arm around him, whispered quiet reassurances. He remembered his mug of tea and pressed it on Fili until he took it, drinking in slow steadying sips. 

“There is a ring.” Fili said at last. “The architect of many miseries, including our own.” 

“How can a ring be responsible for all this?” 

Fili told him of Isildur, describing the ring’s journey from Mordor to the Shire with long arcs of his hand through the air. He told of Bilbo’s parting, the passing of the ring to Frodo and Gandalf’s terrible discovery. 

“I left them. My boys...but my part in their story is over. Isn’t it?” Fili asked as if Kili could give him an answer. “I did my best with them, but they are so small and the world turning so much malice against them.” 

“You did what you can do and now they’ll have each other. Their path has split from yours.” 

“I stopped in Rivendell on my journey here.” Fili lay his head on Kili’s shoulder, whatever energy remained to him drained away. “Have you ever returned there?” 

“Once, many years ago.” 

“Autumn has come to them. It made me sad to see it. Everything is coming to an end.” 

“Only so it can start again.” Kili assured him though the same dark thoughts raced through his mind. “You should sleep.” 

“In your bed.” 

“Our bed from now on.” Kili stood, getting Fili to his feet with some effort. 

“As my King commands.” Fili said wryly, reaching up to trace the simple circlet Kili wore in lieu of a heavy crown. “It looks well on you.” 

“It would have looked fairer on you.” He drew Fili to his bedchamber. “It should have been yours.” 

“But our paths divided. Veenu Icanna. I cursed us the day I said those words over your cradle.” Fili sat on the low bench, prying off his boots and the sight was so wanted, so familiar that Kili almost wept to see it here in his own rooms.

“I cannot agree.” Kili lifted the circlet from his head, setting it aside before kneeling at Fili’s feet. 

“Ridiculous child.” Sinking one hand into Kili’s braids, Fili urged him up. “Don’t do that. You’ll never get up again with that knee of yours.” 

“It’s fine.” Kili lied, wincing as the joint clicked. 

“It’s fine.” Fili mocked. 

“Shut up. Can you get up off that bench without assistance?” 

“If I liked, but I don’t have to do such things on my own anymore do I?” Fili held out an imperious hand. Kili pulled him up with a wide smile. 

When the lights were extinguished and they had sorted themselves out beneath the thick blankets, Kili kissed Fili without intent just for the sheer luxury of it. 

“I was born into love.” He whispered against Fili’s lips. “And I will die without being turned from it. That is the greatest blessing of my life and you gave it to me.” 

“I’m an embittered old man and you’re a king on the verge of an ugly war that might end the world as we know it and you feel blessed?” 

“Yes.” Kili nuzzled his nose against Fili’s. “Don’t call me foolish or ridiculous. We’re still young in so many ways. We could live another century together.” 

“Or we could die tomorrow.” 

“Do you have so little faith in your charges?” Kili trailed his hand over Fili’s long braid, wrapping his hand around the silver clasp at the bottom. “There’s magic in you, you know. And you gave it to them. It will keep them safe on their journey.” 

“I believe in them. I just worry for them equally.” Fili stole another kiss. “I know now how our parents felt as we packed to go with Uncle. Proud and afraid all at once. It’s awful.” 

“There is another prayer, you know. Besides the one you give to children. They don’t bother teaching it to the young. Bofur recited it to me when I turned the century mark.” Kili closed his eyes, the words coming back to him. “ _Mahal incummen ston chadam hadeem roch_.” 

“Mahal,” Fili translated, “turn my heart to stone or give me the strength to carry my sorrow.” 

“I was stone once and I have never regretted turning back. If I can bear it, so can you.” 

“There is yet another prayer.” Fili ran his hands over Kili’s face in the dark. “ _Mahal tameen, pah das hadeem, das hodan, das maya. Mahal tameen, pah das adeenre_.” 

“Mahal praise, for this is my heart, my soul, my beloved.” Kili’s throat burned. “Mahal praise, this is the one you made for me.” 

“ _Pah dis adeenre._ ” Fili kissed him once, twice and third time. “As I was made for him.” 

And so it was in the darkness with no other witnesses, the last King Under the Hill of the Third Age was wed. 

Many miles away, Samwise Gamgee clung to his Master’s hand. He thought their journey had been very long and he feared for Frodo’s life. What he wanted most was to turn back home, taking Frodo with him. They could live out their quiet lives in the Shire, untouched by darkness. Sam wanted that very much. Merry looked on him and shook his head once, sharply though it was Pippin who whispered the refrain of their youth, 

_Veenu Icanna_

“I will take the Ring.” Said Frodo. 

“And I will go with him.” Said Sam. 

_Veenu Icanna_

“But we’ll see each other soon, won’t we?” Pippin clung to Merry’s hand. 

“I don’t know.” Merry let him go. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” 

_Veenu Icanna_

“Ride with me.” Eowyn offered her hand. 

“Yes.” Merry took it. 

_Veenu Icanna_

“Faramir!” Pippin leapt upon the pyre. 

_Veenu Icanna_

“I am no man!” 

Merry struck and the world became pain. 

_Veenu Icanna_

“I may not be able to carry it, but I can carry you.” Sam stood and bore Frodo’s weight. 

_Veenu Icanna_

“We’ve done it.” Kili laughed weak and shaking, still watching the last of the Sauron’s tower crumble from sight. 

“Don’t talk.” Fili scolded, holding a bloodied cloth to Kili’s side. “I need a medic!” 

“It’s fine.” Kili dropped his head back into the grass. “All is as it should be. We’ve held back the darkness.” 

“None of that will do me a lick of good if you die!” Fili snapped. “Stop talking.” 

“I will not die today, husband.” Kili smiled at the ash that rained over the battlefield. “I have tasted death and it was far more bitter than this.” 

“Stop talking!” A soot streaked medic kneeled down at Kili’s side. 

“I told you.” Fili scolded. 

“Ech.” The medic looked it over. “You’ll have another scar, sire, but you’ll live if infection doesn’t set in. This will sting.” 

Kili laughed through the burning agony of whiskey poured over the wound. 

“You’ve gone mad.” Fili kissed his forehead. 

“A hundred years of madness for you then.” Kili beamed at him. “I intend to live each one of them with you at my side.”

“Mahal, give me strength.” Fili sighed. 

“Look!” Flat on his back as he was, it was Kili who first saw them. “The eagles, Fili! Look!” 

A whisper carried over the battlefield. A name. 

“Frodo.” Said the medic. “That’s an odd nickname.” 

“That’s no nickname.” Fili laughed, edging into hysteria. “My Frodo. My boys...Kili. They might have lived.” 

“We’ll find out.” Kili assured him, wincing as the wound was sewn shut. “If they are, we’ll see them soon. Go for visits as I once did. Summers in the Shire with plenty of children about.”

“So it has been asked of Mahal.” Fili clung to Kili’s hand, desperate even as he smiled. “So mote it be.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Less Travelled By](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2316743) by [Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera), [youforget](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youforget/pseuds/youforget)




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